Yellow Turns Blue
by TheSummerWriter
Summary: Mary's descent into mad, obsessive desperation. Mary-centric. Songfic; Blue - The Birthday Massacre.


**Author's Note, 1:** This is Bitter Betrayal and Oblivion's counterpart; they'll be two separate versions from each other, and the one you like best is the one you read forever and ever and ever. *Mary voice*

Anyways, this came into my head when I was listening to _Blue by the Birthday Massacre_ (my most-loved band right now, I know it will change again, because when it comes to bands, I'm as off-and-on as they get), I encourage you to hear them out. Their songs are pretty good, sometimes repetitive. So, that's where the italicized lyrics are from. While listening to _Blue_ , I thought, "huh, this reminds me a lot of the Ib gang!" I also noticed how off-and-on I am when it comes to writing Ib fanfics... xD They're all one-shots, because I'm unoriginal!

Just kidding, I'm planning for something Garry-centric and possibly Guertena-centric that is either chaptered or a one-shot. Still debating. Now, enough of my typed rambling. Please enjoy!

* * *

 _Plastic blue_

She hugged an armful of her blue dolls to her chest, sitting with her knees drawn up in the corner of a cluttered room. The walls were dark, but the floor was pink. The contrast the colors had on each other left an ambiance of discomfort, but it wasn't discomforting to her. Or perhaps, she'd been sitting so long in this room, she'd forgotten how lonely, how uncomfortable, and how faraway she was. Her heart's wrenching was ignored as her blue eyes stung with tears and she buried her face in the mop of black hair her dolls had on their heads.

 _Invitations, in my room_

Often, she would waste away the slow ticking of time in this room without another idea or a decision. She would lay down on her stomach, coloring gently on pieces of parchment or paper, whatever her dolls would find for her from the gallery to the Sketchbook. Her dolls sat crowded around her in a circle, squeaking the slightest of noises as she colored something, anything, to inspire the fastening of time.

 _I've been waiting here for you_

 _Plastic blue_

 _Conversations, in my room_

Or she would sit alone, knees to her chest as she moped. She moped, and then, she mourned, because she had no one to play with; she had no one to talk to; and she had no one to comfort her when she was _feeling_. _He_ was gone. His energy, his spirit, and his restlessness lingered in the gallery, and it hurt her so much, she cooped up in this room in hopes of escaping him, but even now, she felt him, and her heart was aching so badly, she cried into her lap, trailing off to harsh sobs. Her dolls' squeaking softened. They could do nothing but sit against her. They had no voice; they had no understanding; and they had no mind for themselves to be what she wanted, but they had the sympathy to stay with her in the darkest of times.

 _Saving every tear for you_

She was as restless as her dad, she realized. She couldn't stand the suffocation in her damned room anymore, and she chanced a visit in the gallery. The Painting Ladies were asleep; the Liars were too critical for her liking; and talking to the mannequins or the headless statues would serve as a waste of breath. She walked the halls, all sagging shoulders and hair in her face, until she stumbled upon a half-opened box. She rummaged through it, and her heart cracked as she saw memorabilia of her father.

 _Sunlight fading_

 _Black tongues speak faster than the car can crash_

She liked dragging the blade of the palette knife across the rough, sculpted surfaces of the ground; of the walls; of the floor; of the plaster mannequin heads; of the frames, until she was brought back from her sinking within that depthless pit.

 _Reservations, made for two_

She smiled a saccharine smile, and Ib's unease inexplicably resurfaced. What could she make of this enigma? Nonetheless, she was embraced tightly. Her face flushed, and Mary's smile widened.

"I'm so happy to have met you, Ib." confessed the blonde, sounding dreamy and distant.

 _Trusting every word untrue_

Ib's flush deepened, her inexplicable suspicion melting away by the heat on her cheeks.

"I'm glad, Mary.."

"Are you two done?" sighed Garry, looking down at them and frowning. "We've got to get going here."

"Lead the way." Mary's eyes twinkled innocently, with the slightest of malice that only _he_ could see.

 _Fate changes faster than the death of light_

"I knew it!" exclaimed Garry. "You're—"

"Stay away!" Mary raced at him, but he pushed her back, not-too-gently nor not-too-roughly. She collapsed on her side, yellow rose descending beside her fallen form. Her locks of bright blond hair fell over her face, covering her in her own shadow.

Ib stared, heart weighing heavily and unease rising as Garry wrapped his hand around hers and pulled them both away _._

 _You provide the envy_

 _And I'll provide the spite_

Mary's saccharine smile widened. She stood there, hands demurely wrapped around the stalk of a full red rose. Garry stared, registering what he needed to do. Ib's mouth fell agape in shock. This was it. This was her end. Mary wasn't any good to begin with.

"I like blue more." blurted Mary, "You could trade your own for Ib's?" She offered, lightly, not to oversing her excitement of the prospect.

"….." Garry hesitated, and he realized how awful he was for doing so. He frowned at himself, shaking his head and finally deciding. No, _h_ _e's_ the adult here. He should be protecting Ib, not the other way around. Narrowing his amethyst eyes, he said sharply, "Yes, I'll trade my rose in exchange for hers." Mary only smiled wider. Ib's eyes stung with tears and she shook her head back and forth at Garry's proclamation.

"Don't do it!" She cried.

"Don't look at me like that, Ib…" He laughed weakly, softly, heart aching and hardness in his eyes completely softening for the little girl at his side. He smiled confidently for her. "It's not a big deal, okay?" He held out his rose to Mary, and eagerly swapping through hideous laughter, she ran off. "We'll get it back, watch!" He beamed, but when he turned away to start after the blond, his confidence wavered and he knew in his heart, he was dead the moment Mary pushed them in the Toybox. Destined to rot away.

 _Casting shadows in the pale shade of blue_

Mary sunk to the floor, eyes widened and expression shocked.

What had she done?

Ib lain on the floor, face shadowed and body trembling the slightest in her quiet tears. And then, Mary was crying with her. She rushed over and wrapped Ib tightly, apologetically in her arms. She doesn't deserve to hold Ib as they cry and tremble against each other, but she held her anyway, because all Mary wanted all this time more than leaving this world and having time tick faster, was a friend.

Ib is her one and only friend.

* * *

 **Author's Note, 2:** I wish the game had an option to end this way with Mary. While it isn't a happy ending in itself, because Garry dies, in the least, it's good enough that it delivers enough redemption for Mary's selfish actions. Or at least, I tried to capture redemption for her selfish actions, but I'm pretty mediocre when it comes to writing. Cheers! -Winter


End file.
